Regulus's Plight
by water-lily-43175
Summary: We all know the story of Sirius Black. But what of his brother Regulus? He may have given in to his parents and joined Voldemort, but in the end, he proved to be just as strong, if not stronger, than his brother. Here is his story.


"If I resist, I want you to force-feed me the potion. Once it is gone, remove the locket from the bowl, and put this one in its place. Then, leave here. Go back home, and destroy the locket. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master Regulus."

Kreacher nodded enthusiastically.

I drew a deep breath, looking down into the bowl, full of shimmering yet impenetrable poison. What I was doing was crazy; even I knew that, but it was the only choice I had.

My family, the Black family, was a mighty, well-respected pureblood family, and my brother and I had to uphold that reputation. Therefore, we were taught from a very young age to believe that muggle-borns and half-bloods were scum, and not to be seen with us. And as for muggles … they were not worth mentioning.

However, apart from these strict lessons, for the first nine years of my life, I was somewhat shunned by my parents. I was the younger brother, and by the time I came along, my older brother Sirius had already become the heir of the family, while I was left to sit in his shadow, the "back-up plan". The crown of Black was to sit on his head once my father had passed away, there was no doubt about it. My purpose was small and simple: to take over from Sirius if he were to die an early death. Unless he died before having children, I would not get my hands on the Black fortune. It would fall into his hands, and his eldest son's after he died. I would receive almost nothing.

Sirius was spoiled, doted on and cherished when he was young. I hated him for that. He never rubbed it in - in fact, he tried his best to be nice to me - but I despised him anyway. I believed that he was merely sucking up to Mother and Father, even though most of the time they weren't there anyway.

I was overjoyed when the time came for Sirius to leave for Hogwarts. Finally, I would be alone in the house, and I would have my chance to receive my parents' undivided attention. Yes, Sirius would be a Slytherin, and yes, they would be even more proud of him, but finally, _finally_, I would get my chance to shine.

However, my chance came in a completely different way to how I had expected.

The eve of Sirius's first day at Hogwarts, I entered the dining room to find my mother sobbing angrily. My first thought was that if only Sirius were here, he would be able to calm her down. His mere presence soothed her more than a million words from me could.

"Walburga, my darling, what is wrong?"

Father swept past me into the dining room.

"He's in GRYFFINDOR!" Mother screamed.

I was stunned. Sirius, my older brother, the heir of the Black family, in Gryffindor?

Those three words changed my life. From the moment that my parents learned of Sirius's betrayal, I was showered in the gifts that Sirius had been loaded with before. I became the heir to the Black fortune, while Sirius, who had been pushed completely out of the picture, was making friends with the likes of James Potter and Remus Lupin. I was taught the lessons he had been taught, and an extra one: don't turn out like Sirius did. I was all my parents had left, and I had to make a name for myself and my family. I had to be successful where he hadn't been.

I never questioned why Sirius had changed allegiances so abruptly. I'd thought he'd just been pretending to agree with the Black beliefs all along. It didn't occur to me that there must have been a reason for his betrayal, that there must have been something about blood traitors, half-bloods and muggle-borns, or at least Potter and Lupin in particular, to make him change his ideals.

A year after Sirius left for Hogwarts, it was my turn. My mother was rather tense; after all, it was a year ago that she and Father had lost Sirius to the Gryffindors, and she was clearly worried that it would happen again.

"Make sure you get sorted into Slytherin, sweetie," she had said to me in a loud, carrying voice on the platform. "Narcissa will help you find people worthy to be friends with."

Pointedly, almost as though planned, a tall boy with messy black hair and hazel eyes jumped Sirius - James Potter. A slightly shorter, quieter boy with mousy hair and blue eyes, stood behind them, smiling at the sight of his wrestling friends. Remus Lupin, I noticed, also had a number of scratches and scars on his face, and he appeared to be very tired and worn out.

"Goodbye, darling," Mother said loudly, having shot a glare at the three boys, which then carried to a woman with red hair and hazel eyes stood nearby that could only have been Mrs Potter, and planted a kiss on my cheek. And with that, she pushed me onto the train.

To my surprise, Sirius had left me alone for the duration of the train ride. I had almost expected him to attempt to talk to me, to try to get me to change sides, to join him, and become a Gryffindor. But nothing of the sort happened, and as the evening rolled round, I found myself sitting alongside Narcissa at the Slytherin table, the other side of the Great Hall from my brother. However, it felt to me as though we were not just the other sides of the Great Hall, but opposite sides of the war that was undoubtedly to come.

The friends I made at Hogwarts included the likes of Evan Rosier, Rabastan Lestrange and Amycus and Alecto Carrow, all of whom despised my brother for his blood traitor ways. I tagged along and copied their views, and within a matter of two or three years, found myself more estranged from Sirius than I had ever been before. He had made a name for himself as a popular, well-liked prankster, while I remained a quiet, disliked Slytherin. My friends were all future Death Eaters, whereas Sirius's were so anti-Death Eater that it was almost impossible.

As the years went by, my family's hatred for Sirius grew and grew. He soon avoided the house (and with that, abuse from Mother and Father) as much as he could in the holidays, instead preferring to go to the Potters' or Lupins' for the majority of the summer, and stay at Hogwarts during Christmas. It was hard to tell whether Mother and Father were more glad or angry at this; as much as they despised him, they hadn't given him up as a lost cause quite yet. They were waiting to seize the nearest opportunity to convert him. But that never came, and in the summer after my Fourth Year, after Sirius ran away to the Potters', Mother blasted him off the family tree, all but removing his roots to the Black family forever.

It was during that summer that the niggling doubt in my mind sprouted and began to grow. If Sirius felt that strongly about his friends and the ideals that most Gryffindors shared that he was willing to be disowned by his own parents, the people that had brought him into the world, had raised him so caringly, had promised him everything, and would have given him the world if he had asked for it, there must have been _some _reasoning behind those views that had caused this estrangement.

And what of my cousin Andromeda? She had sacrificed her relationships with her sisters, Bellatrix and Narcissa, and her parents, to marry a muggle-born, Ted Tonks, and have a daughter with him, which had resulted in her being blasted off the tree herself. She had also been in a comfortable situation before she had befriended Tonks and his other Gryffindor friends. Why would she sacrifice that, if he had been worth nothing?

Certainly, the Gryffindors, and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in my year that I had also been told to avoid, didn't seem that much different to me. If anything, they seemed stronger than me - they were definitely unafraid to make friends with those others who were looked down on by purebloods, at any rate, which was much more than I, who had been plunged into a group of worthy, respected purebloods, could say for myself.

However, almost all of my doubts vanished as I went back to Hogwarts. Once I was with Rosier, Lestrange and the Carrows again, I realised that my thoughts over the holiday had been crazy, almost to the point of delusional … and brought on by Sirius running away.

That was the one feeling that hadn't left me; the finite loss of Sirius. It had certainly hit me hard, though quite why, I wasn't sure. He betrayed us, and clearly didn't give a damn about me … so why did I care about him so much? Especially seeing as every time I attempted talking to him during my Fifth Year at school, he blanked me.

At Christmas, my parents had more news for me.

"Next summer, the Dark Lord will be visiting," Mother said excitedly. "This is your chance, Regulus - he requests you take his mark, and become a Death Eater, like your cousin Bellatrix. It would be an honour to the family … and certainly more than make up for _his_ betrayal."

I was proud, at first, to hear of this request. The Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard in the world, requesting the servitude of _me_? I was more excited than I had been in years, and couldn't wait for the summer to come round. I boasted about it to Rosier, Lestrange and the Carrows when I got back to Hogwarts, only to find out that they too had been requested. But that made no difference to me - whether he was after them too or not, he had still asked for me, and that meant something. No one had ever made me feel wanted before, and I felt special. I felt important.

I will forever remember the day I first met the Dark Lord. He was tall, impressively tall, and skeletally thin, with bony, pale hands and unnaturally long fingers. His face was gaunt, and whiter than that of a skull, and almost looked like one. His nose was rather like a snake's, with slits for nostrils, and his slit-pupiled eyes a vivid red in colour. He carried with him an aura of mightiness, and I was in awe of him.

Bellatrix, too, was there, standing beside the Dark Lord, and behind him ever so slightly, showing that she knew who was boss. She looked upon me approvingly as I knelt down afore the Dark Lord, left sleeve thrust up to the elbow and forearm showing.

"You shall go far, young Regulus," the Dark Lord said to me, before lowering his wand to my pale forearm.

The pain was indescribable. I wanted to scream, but found myself unable to; my head felt as though it was splitting in two, yet being squeezed tightly at the same time; my arm felt burning hot, and then ice cold…

And then, it was over. Upon my arm sat the most mighty symbol … a skull, with a snake protruding from the mouth, glowing slightly red, as was the raw skin around it. It was a sign of power, of glory … and I revelled in the fact that I bore it.

The one thing that scared me was how Sirius would react if he knew. I still, despite all that we had been through, found myself respecting him, though I was unaware of why exactly this was. I couldn't understand why I was so frightened of his reaction … after all, he wasn't worthy of _having_ an opinion on my servitude … was he?

I don't know how he found out. I certainly didn't say anything … him knowing was the last of my plans. Either way, in the first week of school, he grabbed my left wrist (which caused me rather a lot of pain, as the mark was still stinging) and dragged me into the nearest empty classroom.

"What do you want?" I hissed, attempting to subtly rub my wrist; however, Sirius noticed.

"You've joined Voldemort." It wasn't a question. "You can't deny it, Regulus, I know you have."

"So what if I have?" I glared up at him - he had always been a smidgen taller than me. "It's none of your business. It stopped being your business the moment you stopped being a Black, when you were sorted into the wrong house."

"Don't be stupid, Regulus, of course it's my business. You're still my brother, whether I've been blown off the family tree or not. I care about your wellbeing, and I don't like seeing you make mistakes-"

"If you really cared, you'd have talked to me last year, when I needed to talk to you," I interrupted, breathing heavily. "After you ran away, I began doubting the ideals you and I were taught to follow. I wanted to talk to you, to ask you about it, but you ignored me. That was when I realised that you are no brother of mine. If you were, you'd have cared about me. Why should I leave my parents when they love me? I've done the right thing, Sirius, so stop trying to interfere. You don't care about me. All you care about is yourself, and the fact that no matter how much you boast about the fact that you're a Gryffindor, nothing will hide the fact that you've been outshined by your younger brother, a Slytherin, and a supporter of the Dark Lord."

Sirius's face fell.

"That's not true," he said flatly. "I _do_ care, Regulus, much more than I let on. I've stood back and watched you make mistakes for a long time now, because I didn't think I needed to interfere. It's your life, why should I worry about you messing it up? It's not like you'd have listened anyway. But joining Voldemort … that's big, Reg. That really is big. Even Mother and Father haven't joined him-"

"Bella has."

"Bellatrix is a self-centred, heartless, murderous, sadist freak who is so messed up in the head that she would have her own sister's life made a misery by her own hands," Sirius pointed out. "You can't seriously follow her lead, Reg, you and she are nothing alike-"

"Why? Because I'm weak? Because I can't do anything unless Mother and Father are making me do it?" I took a deep breath. "I'm not that person any more, Sirius. I have my own identity-"

"What, as Voldemort's shoe-shiner?"

"You're just jealous that I'm the Black heir-"

Sirius let out a laugh that resembled a bark.

"You think I care of riches only?" he said scornfully. "No, I value a happy life, full of love and happiness, and individuality, and the right to choose what you want to do yourself, instead of being ordered to do it, much more than one full of gold, servitude and unhappiness. Gold can't buy happiness. I may not have much money, but Uncle Alphard left me enough to get by, and at least I'm happy. I have James, Remus and Peter, and James's family are much more than the family I could have ever wished for. No, I'm not at all jealous of you, Reg. In fact, I pity you. You're not making a life for yourself at all … I just hope that someday, you will see that, and do the right thing."

That was the first time I had spoken to Sirius since he had left for Hogwarts at the age of eleven. His words left a lasting impression upon me, and while I tried to forget them, to push them out of my head, they had a habit of coming back to me. I knew, deep down, that what he had said was right. I should stand up for myself, and live the life that I wanted to lead, instead of one my parents had set out for me.

But it wasn't as easy as that. Once a person had joined the Dark Lord, there was no backing out, and I was only too aware of that fact.

The Dark Lord was waiting for me as I arrived home from my Sixth Year. He had a job for me.

"I need an elf," he told me. "I trust that you can find me one, Regulus?"

"Y-yes, my Lord," I stammered, before rushing into the kitchens. Kreacher would be able to assist the Dark Lord.

But why did he want an elf in the first place? Surely if he needed help, a wizard would be much better than an elf? After all, everyone knew that wizards had powers far superior to those of an elf…

"Kreacher!"

Kreacher appeared in front of me.

"Master called?" he said, sinking into a low bow.

"Kreacher, the Dark Lord requires an elf. I've volunteered you. It is an honour, Kreacher, for both of us, and you must do what the Dark Lord asks of you, and then come straight home. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master Regulus," the elf replied, in a quivering voice. "Kreacher will do as Master wishes."

He then disappeared with a slight pop.

It was about an hour when he returned, soaking wet and shaking violently. I was, to say the least, worried; what had the Dark Lord made him do?

Amidst shakes, coughs and whimpers, Kreacher told me what had happened. He had been taken to a cave, beside the sea, and beyond that a cavern, inside which was a great, black lake. They had climbed into a boat in order to get to an island, upon which was a basin of potion. The Dark Lord had made Kreacher drink the potion, and - my blood boiled as I heard this - the potion had somewhat tortured the poor elf's mind, by making him remember such terrible things … yet the Dark Lord had just laughed, and continued to force-feed Kreacher the potion. A locket had been dropped into the basin, which was then refilled … and then, the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher stranded on the island. He had been forced to drink the water to attempt to counter the effects of the potion, and the Inferi within the lake had almost managed to pull him in, when, forced to follow my order to return, he managed to Disapparate.

I was, needless to say, furious. The Dark Lord, mighty as he may be, had abused Kreacher, with no cares whatsoever as to his wellbeing, and, to put it bluntly, whether he lived or died. Elves may be inferior to wizards, but I had always been close to Kreacher, despite my mother's annoyance. He was the only companion I had had when I was younger, and overshadowed by Sirius. I wasn't about to forget the kindness he had showed me.

Also, I was quite worried about the mission the Dark Lord had been on. What could possibly need to be guarded by a potion that made the drinker relive their worst memories and a lake full of Inferi? What was the significance of this locket? One thing was for sure - it was clearly extremely important, and probably very powerful, too. That thought unnerved me more - that only meant that the locket was dangerous.

"Kreacher, I want you to stay hidden, and I don't want you leaving the house again," I told the elf, trying to keep my voice level. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master." Kreacher sank into a low bow.

It was the only thing I could do.

A few weeks later, I was reading a book I'd found in the house library, called _Secrets of the Darkest Art_, and came across an entry which rang warning bells inside my head, though I couldn't quite figure out why.

"_A Horcrux is the receptacle in which a wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purposes of attaining immortality_."

I frowned; why was my brain working overtime? I'd never so much as heard of Horcruxes before … I stored that information in my head, not knowing whether or not I'd need it again.

Sure enough, I would … but it took me a while to figure it out.

"I've heard that the Dark Lord has found a way of becoming immortal," Alecto Carrow said one night during our Seventh Year, in a low voice.

"How?" Evan Rosier asked, frowning.

"I don't know, I didn't ask him," she snapped. "Believe it or not, I don't go round his place for tea and Merlin knows what else every day. That's Bellatrix Lestrange's job. Mother was talking about it during the summer when Druella Black and Narcissa Malfoy were visiting."

My breath caught in my throat as Alecto Carrow revealed this. The Dark Lord, immortal? Surely, this was where the Horcruxes came into play? What if he had become immortal by splitting his soul and putting it into an object? I had read up about Horcruxes in the summer, and knew how they worked. It seemed absolutely terrible, especially as one had to murder in order to split one's soul. It had become clear to me by now that I didn't have it in me to murder, and so the thought of the Dark Lord murdering just to make himself immortal sickened me to the core.

But what had he used to store his soul in?

The answer came to me immediately. The voyage that he had taken Kreacher on could not have been merely to keep something like a family heirloom safe. No, this locket clearly had a much bigger purpose than it appeared to … perhaps a fragment of soul contained inside it?

Either way, this didn't bother me too much at that point in time. Yes, it was worrying that he was so determined to become immortal that he would split his own soul, and yes, what he had done to Kreacher was cruel … but I was hardly going to stop him, was I? I had no reason to. I supported his ideals. I was one of his followers. Why would I do anything to foil the Dark Lord's plans?

Meanwhile, the war outside of Hogwarts was growing. Sirius had joined what was meant to be a secret organisation run by Dumbledore, called the Order of the Phoenix, but the Dark Lord had found out about it. The Dark Lord and his followers were constantly raiding the homes of mudbloods, muggles and blood traitors, and the Order were constantly trying to stop them, but they were falling at every obstacle. Sirius was heavily involved with the fighting.

During the Christmas break, Mother was often heard saying that she wished that Bellatrix or someone else would just do Sirius in, because he was a waste of space and an embarrassment to the family, and he was better off dead. I wasn't so keen on those remarks, and soon learned to keep my mouth shut about those matters. I was just glad that the Dark Lord did not require me to take part in any of the raids myself.

However, it turned out that I spoke too soon.

During the summer, the Dark Lord planned to raid the house of James and Lily Potter. And he wanted me to take part.

"You have just left Hogwarts, Regulus, and so are free to take part in any raids I wish you to help in," he told me. "This will be a good start for you, seeing as how the Potters are friends of your estranged brother."

This made my heart go cold. I was to attack the house of my brother's best friend. I tried to shrug off the feeling, tried to tell myself that I was being silly. After all, what were the odds of me bumping into Sirius?

Apparently, the odds were quite high.

Standing in my Death Eater cloak and mask before the raid, I felt quite mighty and powerful. I had seen others wearing this uniform, and now, finally, my day had come.

Bellatrix had been placed in charge of the raid, and she handed out our orders smugly. Our plan was simple - to take down the Potters quickly and efficiently. The Dark Lord preferably wanted them alive, so as to question and torture them, and use them as bait for any other Order members, but if they died in the attempt, he would certainly not complain.

We Apparated at the end of the street in which the Potters were currently residing, in a town just north of London. Bellatrix led us quietly up the street to the house, our intention being to give them the element of surprise. Unfortunately for us, the Order seemed to have been expecting us, and as we reached the garden gate, the front door flew open and people began rushing out of it, as others emerged from the sides of the house, all the while shooting jinxes and curses at us. I soon became engaged in a duel with Sirius's friend Peter Pettigrew, whom I disarmed and Stunned easily; he had never been the strongest dueller.

"_Stupefy_!"

The spell narrowly missed me, but dislodged my mask. My heart thudded loudly as I turned to face my new opponent; I knew who it was before I set my eyes upon him.

Sirius's grey eyes widened in disbelief as he saw me.

"Reg…" he whispered. Then he shook his head and shot a non-verbal spell my way.

It was at that moment that I knew I had lost him. There was not an ounce of friendliness or compassion in his eyes; just pure hatred and, even worse, disappointment.

And then he Stunned me.

I remember little else about that night. Bellatrix was mad, the Dark Lord even more so; for we had failed in our mission. But I did not care about that. All that was on my mind was the look on Sirius's face when he had seen me. The anger, the hatred, the disappointment, the shame…

I had let one man tear my brother and I apart. And there was no going back.

It was as though something had snapped inside me. I didn't care about my family's expectations, about my eventual fate, about the extermination of mudbloods. All I knew was that I did not want to serve the Dark Lord.

And this was how I found myself in a dark, dingy cave, staring death in the face.

It had always been my destiny to be the second Black son. I never became the first son, even after Sirius left. I was never able to fill his shoes enough to appease my parents. So I suppose it made sense for me to die a quiet, understated death, just like the life I had lived.

I shuddered, as I dipped the goblet into the bowl, filling it with the deadly potion. With a shaking hand, I lifted the goblet up to my mouth.

"Cheers," I muttered, as the goblet touched my lips.


End file.
